Chapter 83: CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

Winter's POV

The days since my last argument with Damon had been eerily quiet, too quiet. I hated it. Silence wasn’t peace—it was a storm gathering momentum, waiting to unleash chaos.

I busied myself with work and tried to focus on Kai, but even his laughter wasn’t enough to dull the unease crawling up my spine. Damon hadn’t called, texted, or shown up for therapy. Not that I expected him to. The look in his eyes during our last encounter had been raw—a mix of betrayal, anger, and something dangerously close to longing.

I was spiraling, and I knew it.

Just as I settled into the couch with a pile of notes for work, my phone buzzed on the coffee table. For a fleeting moment, I thought it might be Damon. I hated how quickly hope flickered and how equally fast it died when Sienna’s name glared back at me.

Her message was short:

We need to talk now.

My stomach twisted. I couldn’t ignore her, not when I had so much to lose. Against every instinct screaming at me to stay away, I replied: Fine, where?

The café Sienna chose was crowded, its noise providing a perfect cover for the venom I was certain she was about to spew. She was already seated when I arrived, her perfectly manicured nails tapping impatiently against the table.

“Winter,” she greeted, her tone sugary but sharp. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“I don’t have time for games, Sienna. What do you want?” I sat down, folding my arms tightly.

Her smile didn’t falter, but her eyes gleamed with malice. “Straight to the point. I like that. Let’s talk about Damon.”

I bristled, but I didn’t respond.

“I know what you’re doing,” she continued, leaning closer. “Playing the perfect little therapist, the doting mother, pretending you can have it all. But let’s be honest—you’re just in the way.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I shot back, my voice low but firm.

“Oh, but I do,” she said, her smile widening. “And so does Damon or, he will soon enough.”

My blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?”

Sienna pulled out her phone, scrolling before sliding it across the table. The screen displayed a photo of her, Sienna and me, talking like we were the best of friends. It was from today, right now, during this conversation.

“I have more,” she said smugly. “Enough to make Damon question everything he thinks he knows about you. And enough to ruin that precious little bond you’ve been building.”

“You’re bluffing,” I said, though my voice wavered.

“Am I?” She leaned back, her confidence infuriating. “Here’s the deal: Stay out of Damon’s life completely or I’ll make sure he knows exactly how manipulative you’ve been.”

I get to my feet and immediately leave the cafe, I know that trying to explain to Sienna would be completely useless, but Damon should be able to know that this is nothing but one of her schemes, right?

Damon's POV

I stared at the screen in my hands, the text from Sienna glaring back at me.

You should know who you’re trusting, Damon. She’s not as innocent as she seems.

Attached was a photo of Winter and Sienna. At first glance, it was harmless—just the two of them sitting in a cafe, like friends? I know this should be nothing and I completely trust Winter. But Sienna, she had a knack for twisting even the most innocent moments into weapons.

The problem was her words were starting to stick. Winter had been avoiding my questions about Kai for weeks now. And as much as I hated Sienna, she wasn’t wrong about one thing: Winter was hiding something.

But so was I.

I tossed the phone onto the counter and ran a hand through my hair. Every part of me wanted to confront Winter, to demand answers, but something stopped me. Maybe it was fear—fear that the truth would shatter whatever fragile connection we had left.

Instead, I grabbed my keys. I couldn’t sit here, stewing in doubt.

Winter’s car was parked outside her house when I arrived, a small mercy given how unpredictable she’d been lately. I knocked once before the door swung open, revealing her wide-eyed and clearly surprised.

“Damon.” Her voice was breathless, like she’d been running from something—or someone.

“Can we talk?”

Her hesitation was brief but noticeable. “Now’s not a good time—”

“It’s never a good time, Winter.” I stepped inside before she could shut the door. “But we’re doing this anyway.”

She crossed her arms, the defensive posture not lost on me. “What do you want?”

I ignored the question. “Are you hiding something from me?”

The shift in her expression was subtle but telling. She opened her mouth, then closed it, her silence louder than any admission.

“Winter,” I pressed, my voice firmer now. “Tell me the truth.”

Her gaze faltered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit.” The word came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. “I’ve been patient. I’ve given you space. But this—” I gestured between us. “This doesn’t work if you keep shutting me out.”

Her eyes glistened, and for a moment, I thought she might finally break. But instead, she straightened her shoulders, her walls slamming back into place.

“I’m not doing this with you,” she said, her voice steady but cold. “You need to leave.”

I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “No. Not until you tell me what you’re so afraid of.”

The tension between us crackled, heavy and suffocating. And then, like a dam breaking, her control snapped.

“Fine,” she hissed, her voice trembling with anger. “You want the truth, Damon? You’re not ready for it. Because once you know, you’ll hate me even more than you already do.”

In the echo of a slamming door,

Your absence becomes a roaring storm.

The quiet stretches thin like glass,

Each moment fragile, aching to pass.

I trace the words you left unsaid,

Etched in the silence that fills my head.

Questions linger, sharp and raw,

Scraping against every flaw.

Did you see the cracks you left in me?

Or did the darkness make it hard to see?

I built a fortress around my soul,

But you’ve carved out a piece, left me whole.

There’s anger simmering beneath the tears,

Love twisted with my deepest fears.

I hate you for the way I care,

For the way your ghost is everywhere.

Yet in the chaos, there’s a thread,

A tether to the life we’ve led.

A fragile hope that won’t let go,

A whispered plea you’ll never know.